study his master since he had joined him in London, and
understood that one photograph in the silver frame was
entitled to more consideration than three others on the
writing-desk or half a dozen on the mantel-piece. Nolan had
seen them come and go; he had watched them rise and fall; he
had carried notes to them, and books and flowers; and had
helped to dispose them from the silver frame and move them on
by degrees down the line, until they went ingloriously into
the big brass bowl on the side table. Nolan approved highly
of this last choice. He did not know which one of the three
in the group it might be; but they were all pretty, and their
social standing was certainly distinguished.

Guido, the Italian model who ruled over the studio, and Nolan
were busily packing when Carlton entered. He always said that
Guido represented him in his professional and Nolan in his
social capacity. Guido cleaned the brushes and purchased the
artists' materials; Nolan cleaned his riding-boots and bought
his theatre and railroad tickets.

"Guido," said Carlton, "there are two sketches I made in
Germany last year, one of the Prime Minister, and one of
Ludwig the actor; get them out for me, will you, and pack them
for shipping. Nolan," he went on, "here is a telegram to send."

Nolan would not have read a letter, but he looked upon
telegrams as public documents, the reading of them as part of
his perquisites. This one was addressed to Oscar Von Holtz,
First Secretary, German Embassy, Washington, D.C., and the
message read: